Choices Unmade
by Scarabbug
Summary: Darkness envelops the Town of Domino. The Pharaoh is called upon to save this world. Again. So what happens if the gang uncover a terrible secret that has been with them all along? Is anything they cared about really worth fighting for any longer? This is


**Hi everyone in the YGO world! (waves cheerfully) Well, school breaks up soon and I go off to (another) college, so in honour of the occasion, I turned out this. Yay! A whole new YGO story!**

**This idea is a weird one, it came to me after reading a popular humour Fanfic with a very interesting storyline and it got me thinking about maybe writing a similar story with a more series plot. **

**Sooo enough of my jabbering, let's get on with it and pleeeeeaaaaassssseeeeee don't forget to review .

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This story is dedicated to Sakina the Fallen Angel.

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Choices. 

By Scarab D.

"_Even such is time, which takes in trust_

_Our youth, our joys, and all we have,_

_And pays us but with age and dust,_

_Who in the dark and silent grave,_

_When we have wandered all our ways,_

_Shuts up the story of our days…"_

>Quote of Sir Walter Raleigh (Lines written the night before his death.)

Prologue.

She hovered over his shoulder, unseen, watching the words materialise on the screen at an alarming rate. He was writing, again. Typing so fast that his fingers blurred on the keys and words were churned out quicker than the computer could display them.

He swore mildly under his breath, glancing through the scattered papers that littered his desk while still typing at the same speed, as if working through several complicated problems all at once. At the same time, she could hear him muttering softly to himself. Something like, 'oh for goodness sakes, Yumi shall be extremely unhappy about this… what on earth will I tell the producers?'

_Ra knows what he's going to come out with this time, _she thought. Her hand touched his shoulder briefly, as she leaned in on the screen, trying to get a better look at the words he was writing.

"…_That is the reason why long ago when the pyramids were still young, they played a game of such terrible power and violent consequences. They played a game with the fate of the world as their prize…that was their destiny. The destiny of the children who duelled for the life of their world, the hunters who tracked down the demons in their sleep… that was their duty in the name of the pharaoh…"_

She rolled her eyes. What a ridiculous cliché. Hadn't he gotten past the melodrama by now? She stepped back and away from him and wasn't surprised to see the black outline of her hand still imprinted on his shirt. She left marks like that everywhere, and eventually you got used to the darkness following you wherever you went.

The man at the desk suddenly turned around, reaching for something behind him, the girl winced slightly as his hand passed clean through her body, grabbed a wad of papers from behind and passed back again. She rubbed her stomach angrily, wishing he wouldn't keep doing that. _Stupid humans should watch where they're putting their hands… _

She walked leisurely around the desk, examining the office as she had a dozen times before. Taking in the row upon row of books and shelves and scattered, half finished sketches and bottles of paint. The wide poster on the far wall that the old man had probably designed himself. How many times had she sat in this room? she wondered. Had it ever changed even the slightest bit in all this time?

She ran her gaze across the desk, until her eyes fell on something lying there. A small, rectangular pack of cards tied up with an elastic band, their surface decorated in twisting swirls of brown and gold. Duel monsters cards, a deck all done up and ready for use. Her eyes flashed with delight as she grasped it in her hand, running her fingertips across the edge of the deck.

She looked up at the figure still sitting there typing, with no idea that his deck had just vanished right in front of him. Her eyes filled with anger and glee, before she reached out and traced the static of the computer screen with her fingertips, making it crackle.

The man looked up, hearing the static crackling, yet still he couldn't see her. She didn't want to be seen. Not just yet, anyway. He was a surprisingly handsome figure, barely old enough to be sprouting grey hairs. She stood there before him. The old man with oriental black eyes and a girl who was an odd-kind-of-pretty, with a hazel-brown stare and freckle-dashed cheeks. It was almost like looking in a mirror and seeing her opposite reflection.

She hated him. Giggled at his confusion.

She slipped the deck into her pocket without a second thought. Still she went unnoticed as she leaned across the desk and planted an ice cold kiss on his cheek, leaving behind the same ugly black mark as she had on his shoulder. He paused for a moment, a shudder racing up his bones, but he must have put the sudden cold down to the wind rushing in through the open window behind him, as he stood up and turned around to drag the frame closed.

That's right, my master, just ignore me. The girl thought. Her hands clenching into tightly balled fists. Pretend I'm the cold wind or the sleep in your eyes. Pretend I'm not here. Makes MY life so much easier.

It was just beginning to get dark, the sky turning the same feathery orange-brown colour as the young girl's dress. How long was it until sunset? _Not soon enough. I don't want to wait_, the girl stood up straight and turned to stride out of the office. When she reached the door she did not even bother to open it. Instead she strode straight through the wall and the poster and into the corridor outside.

Turning back from the window, the oldish man gazed at the wall where the unseen girl had been a few seconds earlier. As if sensing a shifting in time and space and releasing something –someone– had been here with him, if only for a short while. Someone capable of hiding from human eyes, and he had the feeling he knew who it was. He reached out a hand to where he thought his deck would be and found nothing. He looked up, shocked, suddenly realising that he really had not been as alone in here at all. He ran a hand through his dark, silver-flecked hair, his eyes filled with anxious thought. Then he turned his attention back to his computer, back to the world he was right in the middle of creating, and tried to forget about it. This was no time for dwelling on imaginary hallucinations and missing decks. He had a script to finish.

…And even as he continued to type, somewhere deep in the heart of another city, someone was having the nightmare of his life.

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**Nyeh. I know, no canon yet, but don't worry it's coming in the next chapter. Don't worry if you're a little confused, all will be revealed soon. I hope you understand and it wasn't too boring/obvious etc. So, do you know who this man at a desk writing is? Think about it… Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Sorry if it takes a while to update. Please review.

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